


A life unlived

by bedlinens



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedlinens/pseuds/bedlinens
Summary: Tyrion is dying. These are the last thoughts of a condemned man, or are they?





	A life unlived

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I was feeling super sad. I still am. But I needed to write. Please R&R!

He was in so much pain, he could hardly breathe.

Cersei would have had a laugh, Tyrion Lannister was dying.

“At last,” she would have added, but Jaime would have made a comment about her being too mean.

“You’re not going to die,” someone told him.

He had drunk the poison intended for Bran, unwillingly of course, but he was glad to have done so. He had the satisfaction of knowing that the culprits had been caught and dealt with.

“I want my wife. Bring me my wife. I need my wife!” He exclaimed, as he felt such excruciating suffering, he knew his body would have to give up.

He only wanted one thing, to lay down by her side, one last time.

He wished she would hold him as he went to join his siblings. But he was alone, so alone in this bed….

_“I will never stop thanking the Gods for your recovery,” his beloved said, kissing his hand and bringing it to her chest. “Your heart and mine are two halves and none of us can live without the other.”_

_“I waited for you my love, I did…”_

_“I know you did, and I’m so sorry. I wish I had been there. Never again though. I will never leave your side.”_

_He smiled and kissed her cherry lips, his hand going to her red hair. She welcomed his mouth and opened hers as she smiled._

_“My love, there is something I need to tell you.”_

_“Pray tell, I’m all ears.”_

_“Maybe I could show you instead…”_

_“Show me, hum? Would that require us being naked?”_

_“That’s precisely what got us to where I’m getting at.”_

_“I’m sorry?”_

_She put his hand on her flat stomach, and gave him a meaningful look, yet he needed time to understand. When it dawned on him, he would have wept, if she was not already in tears and he need to kiss it all away. They were going to be parents! To think they had almost been deprived of that…._

“I don’t think he’s going to make it,” one of the servant girls said to her companion. "And who is this wife he keeps calling?"

“Men like him probably have a wife in every city they set foot in, and he has traveled the world. I pity the poor chit who will be blamed for not being there when he kicks the bucket,” the other said.

Harsh, but true. The girl was in a world of trouble. Everybody knew it was your secret duty ordained by the seven gods to be there for your husband. Where was this mystery wife of his?

At least, he could not hear them, the maester had administered a heavy dose of milk of the poppy.

_“Papa! Papa! Look at me!”_

_Tyrion turned around as he was walking in the castle’s court and saw his son with a sword his uncle had sent him. His aunt was teaching him how to use it. She was also teaching his eldest daughter the same techniques._

_“I am so proud of you, son,” he said, unable to hide the honesty in his voice._

_After the uprising he had gotten, he had decided to never miss a chance to let his babies know how much he valued them._

_He felt a little hand tug on his tunic and he looked down to see his third child, a little girl who was to be two soon, trying to get his attention._

_He picked her up, loving the way her hair was both a mix of his, being so unruly, and her mother’s with its vibrant color._

_“Pa’,” she half whispered, “I am lost.”_

_“No you’re not, you just want your old man to give you a ride on his back. You’re lucky he doesn’t mind your tricks,” he replied, tickling her until her crystalline laughter was all he could hear._

_He switched around so that she was on his back, and they went to find her mother._

“Still, I wonder… No one deserves to die alone… Also he is not so old…” The servant said.

“Death is death. When it comes, it comes. Just be ready for it.”

He was not ready for it, she could tell, and it broke her heart.

_“I don’t think any of our daughters should get married,” he finally said, as his wife got her jewelry off and made herself ready for bed._

_“Do you intend for them to have lovers then, and give you grandchildren out of wedlocks?”_

_He was honestly horrified at the thought. All he meant was that no man would ever be good enough for one of his three precious daughters._

_“You know that is not what I meant.”_

_“Then what did you mean? They will grow up, my love, and want to find someone to call their own.”_

_“I wish they were more like your sister in this regard…”_

_“You do realize that my sister has been shagging the latest member of the council, even before he was made worthy of attending and of Storm’s End?”_

_“Wait, what?”_

_“You silly man,” his love said and he was amazed by her beauty._

_Sure, she would sometimes complain about some imperfections she believed could be seen around her eyes, but to him, she was just the most breathtaking woman he had ever met._

_“I just don’t want them to have their little heart broken…”_

_“That is bound to happen.”_

_“Not to my daughters!” He exclaimed._

_“Alright, if you say so. But when one of them comes and tell us she is expecting, and she is not engaged, you’ll have to deal with what it means.”_

_“It will just means she will have created life by herself because that is how strong our babies are.”_

_“Such a silly man,” his beauty said as she slid in bed next to him._

_“I was thinking,” he said, playing with the buttons of her nightgown, “want to see if we can add another baby to our brood?”_

_“You think you’re up for it, old man?” She asked, laughter in her voice._

_“For you, always.”_

“He’s been hallucinating for days now. I can only hope it’s bringing him peace.” The mindful servant said.

“Death is death and…”

“Shut up already. You’re being cruel. He was never mean to us. Remember Queen Cersei? The Mountain? Show some respect!”

“Where in the gods’ name is my husband?” Someone asked, springing out from behind the door.

“My lady, I’m sorry but I don’t think that…”

“Shush!” exclaim the gentle servant upon recognizing the woman.

She dropped to her knees, and her sometimes friend followed suit.

Queen Sansa of the North was standing there in all her majesty, and when she spotted the man drenched in sweat on the bed, she seemed to freeze for a second, before all but tossing aside her crown, and lifting her long sleeves.

“He needs to feel air on his skin or he will burn alive. I’ve brought my maester, tell him to join us here.”

Not giving them a second thought, she climbed on the bed next to the man, and pushed the hair away from his forehead. She felt his temperature, and seemed to be forming a plan, or something just as serious.

“You’re not dying, Tyrion. That’s one lesson I learned from my sister. What do we tell the god of Death? The answer always is: not today.”

Then she started removing his clothing while barking at them to fetch her some teamperature room water to cleanse him with. The maester arrived soon enough and they both started working on their patient.

“Just hang on, husband, you are not allowed to die on me.”

“Sansa?” The sick man asked, clearly believing his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Of course Tyrion, how many wives do you have?”

“You, only you. Will you hold me as I die?”

“I will hold you, alright, but if you die, I’ll bring back Melisandre from wherever she is, and have her make what she did to Jon to you. You’re not dying.”

“If you say so…”

“I say so, and I am queen. What I say goes.”

He half chuckled but was too weak. More orders were barked at the servants, and they did what was asked of them.

_Four years later_

He was watching his son settle on a pony, waiving at him proudly. He waved back.

There was noise behind him, and he turned to see his wife make her way to him, with their latest addition in her arms. Their second son was a momma’s boy, but the again, with a mother such as Sansa, Tyrion could not blame him.

He offered his hand and she took it.

The cold wind of the North sent chills down his spine and he checked that their son was safe.

“He’s alright, he’s perfect even,” Sansa said. “Little Jaime is a true northerner.”

Melancholy filled him but it had given way to acceptance and gratitude for the good memories he could still conjure.

“In my dreams, when I was dying, our second born was a daughter,” he said.

“We can always try again,” Sansa said, and he felt very hot under the collar.

To think they had almost been deprived of all of that, he told himself, looking at their sons, looking at their linked hands, at the love in her eyes, matching the one in his….

“What do we tell the god of death?” His beloved wife asked him.

“Not today. And what do we tell the goddess of fertility?”

Sansa gave him a naughty wink before saying:

”Another try won’t hurt.”

They chuckled.

“I never would have let you die, you know,” she said.

“I’m just happy your brother warned you.”

“When it happened, I could swear my heart stopped beating. It was like I knew. When he got the message to me, I knew why I was dead inside. In a sense, when he reunited us, he brought us both back to life.”

“No need for Melisandre then…”

“Nope.”

They stayed silent, watching Eddard on his pony, then being led to weapon training.

“Your second son seems to be hungry,” Sansa said, “I will take him back inside. And when he’s done feeding, well, if you decide to come and see us, he will be in the nursery, and I will be in our bed, for I am immensely tired all of the sudden.”

The naught in her eyes betrayed her lie and made him love her even more.

He kissed her hand and said:

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

She did not answer, but he watched her hips sway as she made her way back to the castle. Thank the gods for the Dothraki who had though he could un-throne Bran. Thanks to him, he had his wife back, and with time, perhaps, he could make his fantasies or hallucinations come true.


End file.
